Fae Nightmare

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  The Knave has been neutralized by enslavement to the Balance, but we lost your sister. Your sacrifice must be delayed. I have failed in our bargain and will accept the consequences.

  Cavariel,

  Lord of Cups”

  Well, that was creepy. Temporary loves? Her sacrifice?

  Whatever Hulanna had bit off in this Fae world, it was more than she could possibly chew. And why? For what? Because she had hated Skundton so much?

  Was it really so terrible to be human that she would sacrifice everything she loved for this life?

  Something squeaked outside the door and I froze. One second passed. Another. Nothing. I let out a long breath.

  Think, Allie. Think.

  Frustrated, I shifted the papers, but between golem tallies and invitations to parties and little books with woodcut couples kissing on the fronts of them, it was hard to find anything valuable. There was a letter from the Lord of Silk that seemed to threaten Hulanna, her Court and her life if she didn’t cede to him. There was another from the Sooth reminding her that her prophecy had a time limit and must be fulfilled “before the Blood Moons” whenever that was. Another letter from Cavariel that made my stomach twist with how it wasn’t-quite a love letter.

  He was more horrific every time I got to know him better.

  I felt ill.

  Under another stack, there was a letter she had started and stopped four times.

  The first part was scratched out:

  “Alastra Livoto Hunter must be killed befo –“

  “To pay your debt, go to the human world and bring me back my sister,”

  “Your choice is simple. Execution by silk bag, or the head of Allie Hunter.”

  And then finally, scrawled into the paper with such a heavy hand that it was torn in places: “If you wish to be free of your debt, you must bring my sister, Allie Hunter, to the Faewald. Nothing short of that will free you.”

  I paused.

  How lovely. My sister wanted me dead very, very badly.

  But who had she written that letter to?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The sticky bun turned to ashes in my mouth. It was one thing to be the hunter and another thing to be hunted. I felt like the creatures on Scouvrel’s tapestry, one creature hunting the other, oblivious to what was at his back.

  Carefully, I leaned over the desk to look out the window and gasped.

  The moon was very bright as it hung over the Faewald. And the lowest edge of it was stained with a brilliant red as if it had rubbed against a cloth dipped in blood.

  The Blood Moons.

  Whatever I was going to do, I had very little time to do it in.

  I tapped my fingers on the desk, trying to think. Had I found what Scouvrel sent me here for? A cryptic book and evidence that my sister was plotting against me and her marriage to Cavariel was less than a happily-ever-after? I already knew that.

  My eyes wandered over the book and more words appeared.

  For the Earth to rid itself of the air forever, it must only win the half of the Oolag that is of the air – the violent one.

  And for the Sky to take the earth as its vassal, it must only win the half of the Oolag that is of the earth – the beautiful one.

  But if some strange and daring soul desires to bring them both again as one, to straighten what is tangled and make crooked paths straight – then only blood will suffice. The blood of both given willingly to wash us all.

  Well, that explained a bit. After all, I’d heard the prophecy:

  One born on a single day in two halves.

  One half for the land. One for the air.

  One for the rending. One for repair.

  Except that prophecy was only a faint inkling of what this book was saying. After all, the prophecy hinted that Hulanna and I could be used to destroy and repair. But this one laid out three paths – a path that would rid the mortal world of the Fair Folk. A path that would make the mortal world subservient. And a path that would somehow cleanse the Faewald.

  It was obvious which path my sister had chosen – the one that would destroy the mortal world and make it hers.

  And I thought it was pretty obvious which one I needed to chase – because it was possible that I could rid the mortal world of the Fae if I could only “win” my sister – whatever that meant.

  I looked down at the cage tied to my belt. I could capture her. Would that count as “winning” her?

  There was only one way to find out.

  I spun around, meaning to find my sister. My scabbard caught on a dress hanging over something and it fell to the ground, revealing a full-sized mirror.

  I gasped at the sight of Scouvrel, battered and bloody, lying on a stone floor. Standing over him, Cavariel held a whip.

  “Nightmare,” Scouvrel mouthed though no sound came from his lips.

  Cavariel’s smile was wicked. “Now, tell me, Knave, where your mortal wife has gone with all of our children. Tell me, or I will ask the Balance and he will make you whip yourself again.”

  I gasped, my eyes going wide with horror as I realized Scouvrel held a bloody whip in his hands. It had seven tails, each with a barbed end. He’d been forced to whip himself.

  “You can’t,” I gasped. “You mustn’t.”

  I fell to my knees, trying to reach for Scouvrel, but my fingers met only smooth glass. This was my fault. I had sold him to the Balance.

  “Before you say that he won’t force you,” Cavariel crooned, “remember that your mortal wife took something valuable from us. As the Balance, it is his role to restore order. He must take from you. How much pain do you think you must sustain before you atone for so many stolen children?”

  Behind Scouvrel, the Balance walked into my line of sight through the mirror. He looked cool and calm, the feathers of his white wing were unruffled.

  “He could give us the mortal,” the Balance said. “That would pay the debt.”

  “Scouvrel, I’m so sorry!” I said. “This is all my fault.”

  “Nightmare,” he gasped, his eyes glassy, his breath ragged. He tried to reach for me, feebly, his fingers closing on nothing.

  “It is a nightmare, isn’t it?” Cavariel crooned, not seeing or hearing me.

  “They’ll drown you in a river of blood,” Scouvrel whispered and his glassy eyes met mine. Was he trying to warn me?

  “Reliving your childhood, Knave?” Cavariel asked with a laugh. “They did that to us a long time ago.”

  I shivered.

  The door to their room burst open and a golem stepped into the room with a small note in his hand. The Balance sighed and took the note, reading it quickly.

  “We’ll have to return to your fun later, Lord of Cups. This note is from your wife. The Feast of Ravens has begun.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I bit back a curse as they grabbed Scouvrel and began to drag him across the floor. He reached toward me and for a second I thought he was hoping for help and then the vision of the mirror winked out of sight.

  I gasped.

  He was gone.

  And the mortal world was being invaded.

  I had succeeded in saving my father from my sister ... sort of.

  I had succeeded in saving the mortal children ... as best as I could.

  But I was far behind Hulanna when it came to this great game that I knew nothing about – a game that wagered both our lives with the stakes as high as they could be.

  My mouth felt dry.

  I had failed to set a proper trap for her, letting compassion rule me rather than cunning. And I had failed to rally more allies. I’d bargained the only one I had away.

  My palms felt sweaty.

  Which left just one thing.

  War.

  A war between sisters. A war between two halves of the same whole. A war I wasn’t sure I could possibly win.

  I flexed my hands and checked my gear. I had the blindfold and the axe handle – which didn’t do much good outside the Faewald, the sword and th
e key, the tiny mirror, and the cage.

  Carefully, I took the bow out of my quiver and strung it. When next I cut into the mortal world, there would be a war. I needed to be ready.

  I checked my gear, being sure that my cage was ready.

  I was going to try to put Hulanna into the cage. All I needed was a single glimpse of her. This was my last chance to do the job that I came here for in the first place – stopping my twin sister. I opened my pack, pulled out the rat skin and threw it over my shoulders, tying the leathery feet across my chest.

  It stank.

  But it reminded me who I was. I was Allie Hunter. Make me small and I would kill rats. Make me large again and I’d take down the whole Faewald. I did not give up. I did not back down. I was not ready to give up this fight.

  On a last impulse, I grabbed the glowing book from the table and jammed it into my overflowing pack. I’d need to clean it out soon. I was starting to resemble a turtle with this thing on my back.

  Stop stalling, Allie. This won’t get any easier the longer you wait.

  I drew the sword, about to slice the air in two when the door burst open and Werex ran in, his face grim.

  “Lady of Cups, I – ”

  We both froze, sharing a moment of shock. I was the first to react. I closed my eyes and imagined him small.

  You are nothing, you are nothing, you are nothing.

  A tiny pain in my leg made me gasp and I looked down to see a sword the size of a sewing pin jammed into my thigh to the hilt.

  I put my bow on the table, yanked the cage away from my body, then pulled out the little sword and tossed it to the floor. I’d forgotten how much damage a little Fae could do.

  “Werex,” I said through gritted teeth, holding the cage up to where I could see him. “If you have more weapons in there, I suggest you keep them to yourself or I’ll get irritated and see how you like being drowned in a vat of wine.”

  His green face looked pale.

  “What is this madness, mortal? And what have you done with the Lady of Cups?”

  “You’re my prisoner now, Lord of Twilight,” I said frustrated by the change of events. What was I going to do with Werex? I couldn’t let him go or he would just jump out and kill me. I could dump him out the window like I’d done with Vhalrot, but then he might give me away to my sister. Dragging him around with me in this cage was going to be a pain.

  With quick fingers, I grabbed one of Hulanna’s scarves and tied the cage to my pack. At least that way I wouldn’t have Werex jabbing things into my legs. Then I pulled the blindfold over my eyes, trying not to flinch as the Faewald grew terribly spooky and Hulanna’s fine room became nothing more than rags and broken teacups, dirty papers and howling emptiness through the windows. Even Werex in this tiny form twisted and writhed.

  “Let me out, Mortal!” he called.

  “Quiet, or I’ll fill your cage with so much iron that you’ll burn if you so much as blink.”

  I grabbed the bow and sword again, and before I could talk myself out of it, I cut a hole in the air and stepped through as Werex hissed at me.

  I had expected to come out in the mortal world and I almost choked when I stepped through and the world was still tangled.

  Terrified, I yanked my blindfold down with one hand. I had no idea that the sword could take me from one place to another in the same world.

  Where was I? The place was empty and had a fine layer of dust over everything.

  From inside the cage, Werex was laughing.

  “Neither of us has wings, Mortal. What a terrible choice of place to bring us to.”

  We were on a platform over a massive chasm. Mist drifted up from below and clouds ringed us in the darkness above, blotting out the Blood Moon. No stairs or ladders led to the platform. No structure seemed to hold it in place. There was only a platform which at most could hold four people – at most – comfortably. There was no rail around the edges to protect you from the terrifying drop. In the very center of the platform was a jumble of items. I tattered blanket too small for an adult. A worn rabbit made of tied rags. I’d had one like that as a child. I picked it up and out from under it rolled a carved toad no larger than my thumb. It was so very lifelike that I reached out and touched it.

  I snatched my hand back when the carving came to life, its tongue flicking out at my finger. The moment my hand was gone, it fell to the ground, frozen again. I leaned down and snatched it up again.

  “A speaking frog,” Werex said. “That’s valuable. I’ll bargain for that.”

  “What is it?” I asked, examining the strange thing. “And where are we?”

  “This is clearly the Court of Wings,” Werex said in a bored tone. “How else did you imagine people got to this platform? It’s in the Neverending Chasm by the look of things. And we are trapped. Unless that sword can open the air again. Clever little trinket that it is.”

  I looked at the frog. It didn’t move this time.

  “Speak, Talking Frog,” I said, feeling foolish.

  “Don’t forget,” it whispered in a young boy’s voice that seemed oddly familiar. “Don’t forget who you are in this terrible place. You’re Finmark Thorne. Your father pulls stumps from fields for farmers. Your mother makes raspberry jam. They love you. You have three older brothers, Maveren, Tristarch, and Grimmen and they love you, too. Don’t let them make you forget. Don’t let them take that from you, too.”

  It stopped, suddenly and then it was still.

  I shivered.

  “Did it say a name?” Werex asked.

  “Didn’t you hear it?” I jammed the frog into my pocket.

  “It only says one name. And only the person holding it can hear the name. I’ll bargain for it. There’s a name I’d dearly love to have. Perhaps the frog has it.”

  There was a growl in his voice by the end of that sentence.

  “You want the name it gave me?”

  He smirked. “That would be interesting, mortal. I’d bargain for that, too, but I’m just as interested in the name it would give me.”

  “And whose name would that be?” I asked, readying my sword again. I’d better not drop it, or I would die on this platform.

  “The frog gives the true name of the person most aligned with your interests. It’s very handy to know your ally’s true name. Keeps them honest. Even more handy to know if they are truly the most aligned with your interest, don’t you think?”

  So, who was Finmark Thorne? I’d never heard that name before. And yet, my breath hitched just a little as I tried not to guess who I was sure it must be.

  Was it possible that sad lonely boy had once been Scouvrel?

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?” I said, slipping my blindfold back up and slashing the sword through the air again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I slipped through the rip in the air, barely managing to scrape my pack and everything in it through with me.

  I was hit with a wall of sound.

  Shouts, screams, and battle cries mixed with the sound of feet and hooves and clashing metal.

  It had already begun.

  My heart was racing to keep up with my ears.

  I sheathed my sword, crouching into a defensive position on instinct and turning slowly to assess how much danger I was in. Werex was shouting something but I couldn’t make it out over the noise. I ignored him. I didn’t put him in that cage for his opinion.

  I was in a small tangle of thick saplings, so dense that it was hard to see through them. They completely surrounded me. Right now, that was a good thing. I moved and the saplings squeezed my limbs, making it hard to even maneuver enough to look out of the trees.

  I shoved my head through the tangle to look out. I’d expected to see fighting.

  What I hadn’t realized was that just moving an enraged army led to a lot of noise.

  I was on the edge of the mountain plains where the forest began. I had a mostly obstructed view of the stone circle. From it, Fae poured like wine from a pitch
er – Fae on antlered glowing stags, Fae on shining unicorns, Fae with bright armor or dark tattoos, Fae with green orc skin and wickedly sharp weapons, Fae dressed for a ball with curling wings behind them. Ready for battle, eager for pain, they rode – every kind of Fae I could imagine, dressed in every way possible, poured from the circle and out over the plain. They settled into streams of armed Faerie following the paths Hulanna had marked on the map in her room.

  I strained my eyes searching for my sister.

  There she was.

  She stood on the saddle of a unicorn, seemingly oblivious to the danger of balancing on a movable animal who kept a sharp horn on its head.

  I tried to think of her as small, but all I could see was how powerful she looked.

  She wore a gilded breastplate and a gilded winged helmet, her dark red hair flowing in the air behind her and her slashed black skirts fluttering like a flag of death in the wind. She’d worn boots and had a small rune-encrusted buckler on her arm with a pair of stout bracers – these seemed to be her only nod to practicality.

  She was beautiful. She was glorious. She was everything I wanted to be.

  I tried to think of her faults, her deficiencies. It was like grasping at air.

  My sight was obstructed by a horned Fae riding a stag and a horde of the Court of Twilight running at his back.

  My heart plummeted.

  I’d failed!

  I’d planned this. I’d been there at the right moment. I’d caught sight of her just like I’d hoped – and it hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t been able to do it. I hadn’t bet on my own failure.

  I stood on tiptoes, trying to see Hulanna again, swallowing down a burst of panic.

  Don’t panic, Allie. You can still do this. You just need to catch sight of her again.

  Beside me, Werex was cursing so long and hard that he’d run out of any curses I’d ever heard and the layer he’d found below those was scorching my ears and making my cheeks burn hot.

  There was a roar as someone caught sight of me from nearby and I leapt from the tangle of trees, kicking up clods of moss as I scrambled across land as familiar as the back of my hand, ripping up my blindfold so I could see and leaping from one rock to a fallen tree to a place where the land dipped too much for a stag to easily leap.